06-01 2021 20:13
wrote:
Memories of Vaughn
There’s a South Africanism - or it’s probably common elsewhere, too - that most of us know and find ourselves saying without noticing. That word - or is it a sound even? - of wonderment, confusion, of great surprise, when some scratch their heads, go speechless, and lack the words to say or describe something or someone. It’s a nonsense word and Vaughn used it sometimes, too. The one and only yôh!, a kind of Africanised form of the American slang word yo! It’s only that our yôh! comes with so much gees. There you go, another nutmeg – gees – that is such a part of the local jazz lingo that Vaughn spoke and played, unrestrained. I hanker to suggest that this was also a sign of how Vaughn, who came from Bulawayo, Zimbabwe, embedded himself and absorbed South African and Cape Town culture, language, music, and its idiosyncrasies… Nationalities tend to dissolve when people make music together.
So, it’s a case of yôh! when I think of Vaughn Fransch: his presence, that part of his life that I knew and the fact that someone so very visible - who was as strong as the killer chilies that Vaughn’s left hip, hot jazzman Darryl Andrews, supposedly (probably true!) manages for breakfast with zero fuss - is no longer with us. That I‘ll never again hear my name being called when he’d see me and yell “Paulus!”
It’s another case of yôh! when one thinks of what to sample to say about someone who had as many skins, lived as many lives as Vaughn did. I, and many music folks he associated with, probably only know one or two parts of a multifaceted individual whose personality and presence made him somewhat larger than life, out of the ordinary for sure, and someone we’ll clearly not forget in a hurry.
I’m still numbed and breathless to have received news of Vaughn’s progress in the last few days of his life as he battled bravely in hospital, appeared to improve, and then to get that final message: Vaughn just passed away. So forgive my trembling words as I muster some gees to collect a few memories of Vaughn.
I met Vaughn at UCT Music in about the late 90s when he enrolled for a jazz degree. I was supervising the department’s Listening Laboratory, and soon Vaughn was at it, consuming jazz listening lists, the recordings of which I’d assemble and make available to the students. He’d listen to an assortment of music I’d introduce him to, many trumpet players, of course, an array of South African musicians whose names would pop up in the many years of jazz history conversations and listening sessions that were shared with me in the Lab. The Lab was also a place where students could somewhat relax and hang out a bit. Anyone who knew Vaughn knows how he loved a social… in true Vaughn style the chatter often got loud and I’d have to calm the scene… Oh, the many animated conversations about jazz players, styles, and more. “Paulus, so what do you have today? I want some Freddie. And give me Mankunku’s Crossroads Crossroads”, which is typically Vaughn asking me for recordings.
When he moved to Cape Town to study music, he also brought most of his business assets with him from Zim… around the time of the big upheavals there. His parents and other family were still living in Zimbabwe, so he’d travel there from time to time. It was also interesting getting a first-hand account from a Zimbabwean about the situation in our neighbour’s backyard, about his process for uprooting himself from a place he loved and on the back of having already obtained success as a noted businessman, playing music (Symphony Orchestra), qualifying as a pilot, and practicing as a pharmacist. He sold his businesses he said, invested much of it back into others in South Africa, and moved here. He could have gone elsewhere, Canada for one, where he had family members, he said, but eventually Cape Town won.
So Vaughn, already in his thirties, was that out-of-the-ordinary figure the moment he stepped in at UCT Music, if only for the wild enthusiasm with which he tackled his studies, his love of music, his indomitable spirit and his friendships that spread like fire. He operated at full throttle, scoring high throughout his studies, whether in the course work or in the manner he committed himself to every ensemble he played with, especially the pride and passion he had for playing in the UCT Big Band. The passion as he blew hot in the trumpet section of many concerts with the Big Band on The Baxter Concert Hall stage is a lasting memory: a musician playing and giving his best. Vaughn also understood the institution’s reputation for standards and he expected himself to surpass those. His role as a mentor to younger students is another element of his time at UCT.
When I think of him, one of the first words that pop up is accomplished. But Vaughn was very unassuming about his achievements. He lived more lives than most people ever get to live and had an insatiable drive to achieve for no reason other than, in my opinion, just doing it. It looked like he was daring himself. The variety of his academic achievements is almost staggering, but he appeared to brush this off. Robert Mugabe inspired literacy in the great Zimbabwean people, making them among the most literate nations on earth. Mugabe, reportedly the world’s most academically qualified and educated politician of his time, was more degreed than most people. I don’t know if Vaughn thought of this, but he took up Mugabe’s education call like few others probably.
At UCT he went on to achieve double Performance Masters in jazz and in classical music - not an ordinary feat. At the time, aspiring to peak playing performance was an ambition many students harboured. I remember his Final Masters' Recitals vividly, how pumped up and nervous he was to not fail the music mentors at UCT whom he so admired. He succeeded spectacularly.
As a music student, Vaughn built a network that took him to stages around the country and the world, sharing time with a legion of musicians, playing hundreds of gigs in all sorts of forms. He was a staple of the Cape Town-SA music scene for two decades. In 2005 he was so animated after returning from the US on a tour to the IAJE Conference with fellow colleagues and meeting and playing with jazz legends. Our unforgettable times together in Grahamstown at the country’s premier jazz gathering is another layered story of epic proportions… one of the highlights probably being the time Vaughn met John Fedchock, one of the world’s much-admired jazz creatives, and went on to show John the experience of true African hospitality. As we know, Vaughn and hospitality go hand in glove. And can we ever forget the times with legendary LA trumpeter John Thomas! The many other musicians he’d host or care for in some or other way; Vaughn’s generosity and readiness to splash out on others is an abiding memory, which just about everyone who came into contact with him would attest.
After jazz studies, he started Law studies from scratch to build a legal career that ran parallel to a music-gigging career. Among a list of businesses, he owned Costello’s jazz bar in recent years, where I last saw him play. Vaughn was everywhere. The speed of his life was evident in everything I saw him do. He was also strong as gunpowder; stubborn and resolute as a bull… boy, if anyone were to have survived this pandemic, we would think that it’s him.
Vaughn could go sleepless longer than anyone I knew. The pace he kept studying Law was insane… on one visit to him, he hadn’t slept for days while turning out assignments that allowed him to complete the degree ahead of time, he said. I’d drop by and he’d feed me his mother’s heavenly curries, sometimes hot-as-hell, and he was amazed I had the stomach lining for it. “Paulus, yassis, it can’t be. You’re worse than me!”, followed by that bursting laugh. Curry fired him up, and it was no surprise running into Vaughn at legendary Cozy Corner in Wynberg for Sunday night grub the last time I was home. We downed a Cozy special together. About curries and hot stuff, it must be noted that no one holds a candle to Darryl Andrews. Alistair Andrews isn’t far behind; maybe Ivan Bell is up there, too, and I know that Bruce Muirhead is a cracking chili champion. Vaughn had an army of curry comrades in Cape Town – how could Canada possibly take him?!
Advocate Vaughn Fransch’s work as a legal eagle I cannot account for with the same intimacy as the musician Vaughn, but there’s testimony from legal fraternity colleagues and others that he volunteered his services often, helping and advising in a way that echoes the same generosity that he is known for in the rest of his life. I visited him once in his offices, and the fine surroundings spoke of all the Vaughn I knew… when he did something big, the aim was always for something out of the top drawer.
I must admit that in moments of incredulousness observing Vaughn while he would fly at top speed, I sometimes wondered what Vaughn the pilot and Vaughn the pharmacist was like before I knew him. Owning the house, I’m sure. And man, to picture him in a court crossing swords with the opposition… ☺
He was someone who could love people with a kind of mad love. As with so many, we bonded quickly. Years into our friendship, one of the nicest things he ever did for me was to task me to share music with his dad, whose gentle nature for me makes him the yin to Vaughn’s yang. Mr. Fransch senior inspired much of Vaughn’s love of music and in him, I found a musical kindred spirit who always lit up when I’d come by to bring him more music and share talk of this and that artist. Vaughn would “get it” when I say that the only thing that stopped him from reaching his dad’s heights of quiet gentlemanliness was his brilliant hyper brain that was often one step ahead of what his mouth was literally able to keep up with. ☺ That mouth! I‘d sometimes scold Vaughn for pounding his body the way he did, and he’d pretend to seriously listen to my complaints, nodding: “Yes, Paulus.”
I once invited him to my birthday party and I remember two things about it: the important one was the quiet and modest pride he showed that I had invited him to my party – it was one of a few instants where I got a peek into Vaughn’s soul. The other was his excitement pulling up that hot January night with Karen, personalized gifts in hand, and going off on congratulating me for my fortieth birthday. I was 32! Dammit, Vaughn! ☺ ☺
About the many gigs and incredible times, let me not start… Vaughn would hit the high C’s at The Gal (Galaxy) in Athlone; the many classic nights at the Baxter, and of course that bar!; the magic of Manenberg’s at the Waterfront; Stardust in Rondebosch; At Marimba at the CTICC there was Mike Campbell’s Blue Note Big Band, so named not because of the famous New York City club but because the band members got a blue R100 note for every gig… Who says jazz doesn’t pay?!
In all or most of these, Darryl Andrews was always there. If the walls could speak… Also, Loxley’s in Rondebosch in 2005 & 2006 became legendary where memories of Mankunku will always endure. We all worshiped Bra Winston like he was God, our Coltrane, more so now even. There’s a colourful picture of Vaughn’s KGB Band at Loxley’s that captures our time with aching bliss: our youth mixed with the elderly grace of Mankunku Ngozi, frozen in a time that can never be repeated, like the great jazz song that is only ever played that way the one time and can never exactly be repeated.
Vaughn knew and loved many people, his music mentors and more, but from my time with him, I think of the two people who lingered large in his life: Darryl (who’s one of the unsung jazz greats in South Africa) for his musical mentoring, leadership, friendship and so many other ships, who always stood by Vaughn. And Karen, Vaughn’s enduring partner and mother to his sons. She had Vaughn’s back until his last breath. Karen rode the rollercoaster of Vaughn’s life for most of their adult lives. She was Vaughn’s rock, a very unique position she held, and something I knew Vaughn knew. Karen assisted Vaughn’s successes, stubborn as he could be, for better, for worse. Many people mattered to Vaughn, his family, and children, (including his own son and daughter and Karen’s son) were very important in his life and he was always in their corner. He was passionately proud of his parents, his siblings, and all his family.
I‘d like to think that Vaughn was a great Zimbabwean, a South African and an African who blazed his own trail and needed no one’s validation. As an African growing up when and where I did, that resonates deeply with me. He loved South African music and the music legends as if he had lived here all his life.
It’s hard to say goodbye to such a dominant figure who charted a course that featured obstacles of varying shapes but trod on regardless because of an unshakable belief in himself and seemed always, in the end, to get out on top. What a life! Many are yet to come to terms that he’s no longer there; it feels surreal and in this time of a major pandemic, the pain is all too visceral. Vaughn joins the many thousands who are succumbing to a virus and whose deaths and suffering are surely a marker for everyone to persist in doing all that is needed to preserve our lives.
Sincere condolences to the Fransch family and extended families of musicians and the other professions where he left his imprint, and to all who loved Vaughn, especially his nearest and dearest, his kids; his partner Karen; his loving dad; his siblings; friends who were family. We cannot fathom your pain.
Rest softly, Vaughn. Thank you for all your fat mad love. Not only will you be remembered for so much but also now you’ll never be old.
Your friend, Paul. Paulus to you ☺
-----------------------------
(Paul Sedres, Paris, 03.01.21)
06-01 2021 20:13
wrote:
Memories of Vaughn
There’s a South Africanism - or it’s probably common elsewhere, too - that most of us know and find ourselves saying without noticing. That word - or is it a sound even? - of wonderment, confusion, of great surprise, when some scratch their heads, go speechless, and lack the words to say or describe something or someone. It’s a nonsense word and Vaughn used it sometimes, too. The one and only yôh!, a kind of Africanised form of the American slang word yo! It’s only that our yôh! comes with so much gees. There you go, another nutmeg – gees – that is such a part of the local jazz lingo that Vaughn spoke and played, unrestrained. I hanker to suggest that this was also a sign of how Vaughn, who came from Bulawayo, Zimbabwe, embedded himself and absorbed South African and Cape Town culture, language, music, and its idiosyncrasies… Nationalities tend to dissolve when people make music together.
So, it’s a case of yôh! when I think of Vaughn Fransch: his presence, that part of his life that I knew and the fact that someone so very visible - who was as strong as the killer chilies that Vaughn’s left hip, hot jazzman Darryl Andrews, supposedly (probably true!) manages for breakfast with zero fuss - is no longer with us. That I‘ll never again hear my name being called when he’d see me and yell “Paulus!”
It’s another case of yôh! when one thinks of what to sample to say about someone who had as many skins, lived as many lives as Vaughn did. I, and many music folks he associated with, probably only know one or two parts of a multifaceted individual whose personality and presence made him somewhat larger than life, out of the ordinary for sure, and someone we’ll clearly not forget in a hurry.
I’m still numbed and breathless to have received news of Vaughn’s progress in the last few days of his life as he battled bravely in hospital, appeared to improve, and then to get that final message: Vaughn just passed away. So forgive my trembling words as I muster some gees to collect a few memories of Vaughn.
I met Vaughn at UCT Music in about the late 90s when he enrolled for a jazz degree. I was supervising the department’s Listening Laboratory, and soon Vaughn was at it, consuming jazz listening lists, the recordings of which I’d assemble and make available to the students. He’d listen to an assortment of music I’d introduce him to, many trumpet players, of course, an array of South African musicians whose names would pop up in the many years of jazz history conversations and listening sessions that were shared with me in the Lab. The Lab was also a place where students could somewhat relax and hang out a bit. Anyone who knew Vaughn knows how he loved a social… in true Vaughn style the chatter often got loud and I’d have to calm the scene… Oh, the many animated conversations about jazz players, styles, and more. “Paulus, so what do you have today? I want some Freddie. And give me Mankunku’s Crossroads Crossroads”, which is typically Vaughn asking me for recordings.
When he moved to Cape Town to study music, he also brought most of his business assets with him from Zim… around the time of the big upheavals there. His parents and other family were still living in Zimbabwe, so he’d travel there from time to time. It was also interesting getting a first-hand account from a Zimbabwean about the situation in our neighbour’s backyard, about his process for uprooting himself from a place he loved and on the back of having already obtained success as a noted businessman, playing music (Symphony Orchestra), qualifying as a pilot, and practicing as a pharmacist. He sold his businesses he said, invested much of it back into others in South Africa, and moved here. He could have gone elsewhere, Canada for one, where he had family members, he said, but eventually Cape Town won.
So Vaughn, already in his thirties, was that out-of-the-ordinary figure the moment he stepped in at UCT Music, if only for the wild enthusiasm with which he tackled his studies, his love of music, his indomitable spirit and his friendships that spread like fire. He operated at full throttle, scoring high throughout his studies, whether in the course work or in the manner he committed himself to every ensemble he played with, especially the pride and passion he had for playing in the UCT Big Band. The passion as he blew hot in the trumpet section of many concerts with the Big Band on The Baxter Concert Hall stage is a lasting memory: a musician playing and giving his best. Vaughn also understood the institution’s reputation for standards and he expected himself to surpass those. His role as a mentor to younger students is another element of his time at UCT.
When I think of him, one of the first words that pop up is accomplished. But Vaughn was very unassuming about his achievements. He lived more lives than most people ever get to live and had an insatiable drive to achieve for no reason other than, in my opinion, just doing it. It looked like he was daring himself. The variety of his academic achievements is almost staggering, but he appeared to brush this off. Robert Mugabe inspired literacy in the great Zimbabwean people, making them among the most literate nations on earth. Mugabe, reportedly the world’s most academically qualified and educated politician of his time, was more degreed than most people. I don’t know if Vaughn thought of this, but he took up Mugabe’s education call like few others probably.
At UCT he went on to achieve double Performance Masters in jazz and in classical music - not an ordinary feat. At the time, aspiring to peak playing performance was an ambition many students harboured. I remember his Final Masters' Recitals vividly, how pumped up and nervous he was to not fail the music mentors at UCT whom he so admired. He succeeded spectacularly.
As a music student, Vaughn built a network that took him to stages around the country and the world, sharing time with a legion of musicians, playing hundreds of gigs in all sorts of forms. He was a staple of the Cape Town-SA music scene for two decades. In 2005 he was so animated after returning from the US on a tour to the IAJE Conference with fellow colleagues and meeting and playing with jazz legends. Our unforgettable times together in Grahamstown at the country’s premier jazz gathering is another layered story of epic proportions… one of the highlights probably being the time Vaughn met John Fedchock, one of the world’s much-admired jazz creatives, and went on to show John the experience of true African hospitality. As we know, Vaughn and hospitality go hand in glove. And can we ever forget the times with legendary LA trumpeter John Thomas! The many other musicians he’d host or care for in some or other way; Vaughn’s generosity and readiness to splash out on others is an abiding memory, which just about everyone who came into contact with him would attest.
After jazz studies, he started Law studies from scratch to build a legal career that ran parallel to a music-gigging career. Among a list of businesses, he owned Costello’s jazz bar in recent years, where I last saw him play. Vaughn was everywhere. The speed of his life was evident in everything I saw him do. He was also strong as gunpowder; stubborn and resolute as a bull… boy, if anyone were to have survived this pandemic, we would think that it’s him.
Vaughn could go sleepless longer than anyone I knew. The pace he kept studying Law was insane… on one visit to him, he hadn’t slept for days while turning out assignments that allowed him to complete the degree ahead of time, he said. I’d drop by and he’d feed me his mother’s heavenly curries, sometimes hot-as-hell, and he was amazed I had the stomach lining for it. “Paulus, yassis, it can’t be. You’re worse than me!”, followed by that bursting laugh. Curry fired him up, and it was no surprise running into Vaughn at legendary Cozy Corner in Wynberg for Sunday night grub the last time I was home. We downed a Cozy special together. About curries and hot stuff, it must be noted that no one holds a candle to Darryl Andrews. Alistair Andrews isn’t far behind; maybe Ivan Bell is up there, too, and I know that Bruce Muirhead is a cracking chili champion. Vaughn had an army of curry comrades in Cape Town – how could Canada possibly take him?!
Advocate Vaughn Fransch’s work as a legal eagle I cannot account for with the same intimacy as the musician Vaughn, but there’s testimony from legal fraternity colleagues and others that he volunteered his services often, helping and advising in a way that echoes the same generosity that he is known for in the rest of his life. I visited him once in his offices, and the fine surroundings spoke of all the Vaughn I knew… when he did something big, the aim was always for something out of the top drawer.
I must admit that in moments of incredulousness observing Vaughn while he would fly at top speed, I sometimes wondered what Vaughn the pilot and Vaughn the pharmacist was like before I knew him. Owning the house, I’m sure. And man, to picture him in a court crossing swords with the opposition… ☺
He was someone who could love people with a kind of mad love. As with so many, we bonded quickly. Years into our friendship, one of the nicest things he ever did for me was to task me to share music with his dad, whose gentle nature for me makes him the yin to Vaughn’s yang. Mr. Fransch senior inspired much of Vaughn’s love of music and in him, I found a musical kindred spirit who always lit up when I’d come by to bring him more music and share talk of this and that artist. Vaughn would “get it” when I say that the only thing that stopped him from reaching his dad’s heights of quiet gentlemanliness was his brilliant hyper brain that was often one step ahead of what his mouth was literally able to keep up with. ☺ That mouth! I‘d sometimes scold Vaughn for pounding his body the way he did, and he’d pretend to seriously listen to my complaints, nodding: “Yes, Paulus.”
I once invited him to my birthday party and I remember two things about it: the important one was the quiet and modest pride he showed that I had invited him to my party – it was one of a few instants where I got a peek into Vaughn’s soul. The other was his excitement pulling up that hot January night with Karen, personalized gifts in hand, and going off on congratulating me for my fortieth birthday. I was 32! Dammit, Vaughn! ☺ ☺
About the many gigs and incredible times, let me not start… Vaughn would hit the high C’s at The Gal (Galaxy) in Athlone; the many classic nights at the Baxter, and of course that bar!; the magic of Manenberg’s at the Waterfront; Stardust in Rondebosch; At Marimba at the CTICC there was Mike Campbell’s Blue Note Big Band, so named not because of the famous New York City club but because the band members got a blue R100 note for every gig… Who says jazz doesn’t pay?!
In all or most of these, Darryl Andrews was always there. If the walls could speak… Also, Loxley’s in Rondebosch in 2005 & 2006 became legendary where memories of Mankunku will always endure. We all worshiped Bra Winston like he was God, our Coltrane, more so now even. There’s a colourful picture of Vaughn’s KGB Band at Loxley’s that captures our time with aching bliss: our youth mixed with the elderly grace of Mankunku Ngozi, frozen in a time that can never be repeated, like the great jazz song that is only ever played that way the one time and can never exactly be repeated.
Vaughn knew and loved many people, his music mentors and more, but from my time with him, I think of the two people who lingered large in his life: Darryl (who’s one of the unsung jazz greats in South Africa) for his musical mentoring, leadership, friendship and so many other ships, who always stood by Vaughn. And Karen, Vaughn’s enduring partner and mother to his sons. She had Vaughn’s back until his last breath. Karen rode the rollercoaster of Vaughn’s life for most of their adult lives. She was Vaughn’s rock, a very unique position she held, and something I knew Vaughn knew. Karen assisted Vaughn’s successes, stubborn as he could be, for better, for worse. Many people mattered to Vaughn, his family, and children, (including his own son and daughter and Karen’s son) were very important in his life and he was always in their corner. He was passionately proud of his parents, his siblings, and all his family.
I‘d like to think that Vaughn was a great Zimbabwean, a South African and an African who blazed his own trail and needed no one’s validation. As an African growing up when and where I did, that resonates deeply with me. He loved South African music and the music legends as if he had lived here all his life.
It’s hard to say goodbye to such a dominant figure who charted a course that featured obstacles of varying shapes but trod on regardless because of an unshakable belief in himself and seemed always, in the end, to get out on top. What a life! Many are yet to come to terms that he’s no longer there; it feels surreal and in this time of a major pandemic, the pain is all too visceral. Vaughn joins the many thousands who are succumbing to a virus and whose deaths and suffering are surely a marker for everyone to persist in doing all that is needed to preserve our lives.
Sincere condolences to the Fransch family and extended families of musicians and the other professions where he left his imprint, and to all who loved Vaughn, especially his nearest and dearest, his kids; his partner Karen; his loving dad; his siblings; friends who were family. We cannot fathom your pain.
Rest softly, Vaughn. Thank you for all your fat mad love. Not only will you be remembered for so much but also now you’ll never be old.
Your friend, Paul. Paulus to you ☺
-----------------------------
(Paul Sedres, Paris, 03.01.21)
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Nikole Vali
Nikole Vali
Vaughn, we are really lost for words and still in deep shock. You called us brother and sister because that's what we all were to each other. We sure are gonna miss you and your giggles. All the houseboat trips but most of all your famous saying "its happening". Someone so special can never be forgotten. It's because you were someone who gave his all unseen. Unheard but always near. Those we love never go away. Vaughn will be greatly missed. Condolences to the Fransch Family & Karen. MHDSRIP. Love the Vali's
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